


Project S.A.L.S.A.

by yearofmeteors



Category: Mystery Science Theater 3000
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fight Sex, Frottage, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 00:54:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3917119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yearofmeteors/pseuds/yearofmeteors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike has no chill. Forrester has bad luck with henchman. Joel knows all. Frank is not about that UST.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Mike the Temp"

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this while I should've been working on finals. God have mercy on my soul.

“I don’t know, Frank.” Dr. Clayton Forrester was standing in the middle of his lab, watching their new temp do some particularly gymnastic manual labor. “Maybe we’ve been too hasty with this whole getting rid of the temp thing.”

“Hmmm. . .” TV’s Frank nodded thoughtfully, hand at his chin. “Perhaps . . .” He trailed off as the temp paused in the middle of his work to unzip his jumpsuit to the waist, tie the arms around his hips to secure it and proceed to strip off his undershirt. “Uh . . . he seems to have his uses.” Frank finished, gaping.

Dr. Forrester coughed, pulling at his shirt collar. Maybe the room _was_ a little hot. The temp sure seemed to be working up a sweat. Oh, great. Their corn-fed All-American poster boy was stretching now. Arms above his head, sweat rolling down his spine, stomach pulled taut. Good lord, that jumpsuit was going to slip off his hips entirely. “Maybe as a . . . control subject . . . or something.”

The temp caught sight of them staring, his face brightening into a genial smile. He gave a little wave before getting back to work. Absolutely nauseating.

“Yeah . . .” Frank croaked.

“You know, statistically speaking, or whatever, we should have another dope watching cheesy movies _here_ to compare with Joel up _there_.”

Frank nodded. “And what’s the fun in killing him, when we can torture him?”

“Then that settles it.” Forrester felt a particularly satisfying evil laugh coming on. “We’re keeping him.”

...........................................................................................................................................

Mike couldn’t help the blush that leapt to his cheeks. Dr. Forrester was kind of adorable for all of his mad scientist posturing. “I didn’t expect this.” Mike said. He was being hired full time. Albeit at a suspiciously evil underground lair, which meant he probably didn’t really have a choice. But either way it was the best luck he’d had in ages.

“Well our operation has recently experienced an uptick in, uh, growth, and we need a new test case- uh, I mean a new assistant. And since you already know your way around the place. . .” Forrester seemed to be blushing a little. No he couldn’t be, Mike thought. That would be ridiculous.

“Thank you.” Mike said, grinning. Dr. Forrester smiled back, a little shy. Mike bit his lip.

Dr. Forrester coughed. “Now get out of here and go move some heavy boxes or something.”

“Thanks Dr. Forrester.” Mike ran off with a wave. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that this particular mad scientist had shuffled his feet like a schoolgirl when Mike thanked him.


	2. Busywork

“Riiiight.” Joel smirked. “Yeah, ‘Mike the temp’ is a new _test case_.” Forrester bristled at the tone he used. He didn’t like Joel questioning his scientific objectivity.

“Looks more like Brad Vandergroin back there than a lab rat.” Tom Servo piped up.

“Yeah, a real Flint McRockfist.” Crow interjected. Joel and the bots snickered.

“Excuse you, you think any manual labor is going to get done by a skinny dope like you?”

“Hey! I’m plenty strong. I’m a good handyman.” Joel protested. “I built these bots didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but I think this guy’s doing a different kind of _manual labor_. _”_ Servo said in an aside. “If you know what I mean.”

Crow cackled and Joel broke into a smile.

“I don’t know what you think you’re implying –” Forrester was interrupted by Frank poking him in the shoulder. “What!?”

“Umm . . .” Frank muttered, pointing behind him. Forrester turned around with a growl. His lengthy tirade on Frank’s ineptitude died on his lips when he saw what their new ‘assistant’ was doing. Mike was lifting a large box onto a very high shelf, practically plastered up against the wall, t-shirt riding up and sticking to his skin. Forrester could see his muscles shift and stretch as he strained under the weight of the box. He was also groaning with the effort. Forrester thought it was more than a little pornographic.

“Jesus Christ.” Forrester shook his head. “Mike! Get down from there and go . . . help Frank unstick the vacuum chamber doors or something.”

“Awww, come on boss.” Frank pouted. “You know how hard those doors are to–”

“Frank!” Dr. Forrester yelled, scaring Frank off.

He turned back to Joel and the bots to find that they were laughing their heads off.

“You want a second movie in a week, you little ingrates?” He hissed.

“No sir!” Joel said, sobering up. The bots continued to snicker.

“That’s what I thought, now stop bothering me. I have a world to conquer.” He went to shut the feed off.

“I bet that’s not all he wants to conquer. . .” He heard Servo quip.

“Yeah, Mike’s ass!” He heard Crow exclaim as he severed the connection to the Satellite of Love. Forrester watched Mike walk away. Damn it, he thought. Crow wasn’t wrong. . .

............................................................................................................

Mike wasn’t really very good at handyman stuff. He was aware that he looked the part considering his farm-bred Wisconsin-ness just screamed ‘good at shingling a roof.’ But when it got down to it, he wasn’t good at any of it. He could lift heavy things and manage to keep said things in working order, but past that, he knew he wasn’t the guy to call. He suffered through most of his temp jobs by winging it. How or why he managed to snag this full time job as assistant/handyman was beyond him.

Thankfully most of the odd jobs his new employer had him do turned out to be less technical and more physically demanding. He supposed that engineering inclined men like TV’s Frank and Dr. Forrester could handle the more difficult tasks. They probably hired Mike because they didn’t want to mess with moving the boxes and boxes of documentation required for Dr. Forrester’s various evil schemes.

A couple of days after the audit was done he was began to get the feeling that he wasn’t actually doing anything useful. In fact he felt like he was doing busywork. Busywork that made him sweat profusely and strip down to his undershirt (or completely out of his undershirt) on several (most?) occasions. Shit. He hadn’t been hired for his skills, he’d been hired for his body. Well, Mike supposed, a mad scientist needed eye candy if he was going to be a real mad scientist. The fact that it was Mike that he chose for said eye candy was kind of flattering, if a little weird.

It didn’t help that Mike was essentially stuck in Deep 13 for the next . . . well indefinitely. Mad scientists, no matter how cute, wouldn’t look kindly on someone quitting their job. Plus Mike was living in the little Deep 13 employee dormitory, so it wasn’t like he could just fail to show up for work one day.

Mike’s heart stopped. He followed his train of thought back and realized he had just called Dr. Forrester cute.

Mike was _not_ getting a crush on this man. Who was his boss. Who was a mad scientist. Who was effectively keeping him captive (albeit with good pay).

Who didn’t even comb his damn hair.

Mike was fucked. And he didn’t think it was going to be in the way he would like.


	3. Seduce An Evil Scientist Already

Forrester smiled and rubbed his hands. Today was the day that Mike would suffer his way through his first cheesy movie, a truly horrendous piece of work, _The Brain That Wouldn’t Die._ When he walked into the lab he was too busy imagining the torture Mike would be going through to notice who was in there already. When his brain registered the image in front of him, his thoughts stalled completely.

Mike was in a baggy t shirt and draw string shorts, curled up in a chair and eating cereal. He looked like he had just rolled out of bed, messy hair and all.

Mike looked up sleepily. “Oh hello, Clayton.” He said with a yawn and lopsided smile.

“Clayton?” Forrester asked, his brain going to high alert at the use of his first name.

Mike blushed. “Oh shit. Sorry, Dr. Forrester. I’m still waking up. Haven’t even got the jumpsuit on yet.” He gestured to himself with his spoon. “Still in my PJ’s.” He winced. “Not very professional. Sorry.”

“Uh.” Forrester felt his face heat up. “Just, don’t make it a habit.” He tried not to stare at Mike’s bare legs and . . . bare feet. His toes were curled on the edge of the chair. He was probably trying to keep them from touching the cold floor. He could feel his mouth moving, but no sound was coming out. “Uh, Clayton’s fine, Mike.” He managed to get out around the lump in his throat. “Why are you here so early anyways?”

“Oh, I guess I’m just nervous about the experiment today.” Mike wiggled his toes. Forrester’s brain was close to short-circuiting completely, but it snagged on what Mike was saying.

“Nervous?” Forrester pulled up a chair alongside Mike’s. This was interesting, he thought. Joel didn’t get nervous about much of anything. Nerves would be a nice element to this whole experiment. _That_ was why he wanted to talk to Mike, he argued. For science.

“Yeah, I don’t wanna mess it up.” Mike bit his lip. Forrester was positive he was going to combust if Mike kept biting his goddamn lip, or curling his toes. Or basically just existing.

“You’re watching a shitty movie while we take brain scans. You don’t have to do anything but suffer your way through.”

“I guess. I . . . I don’t want to mess up the best job I’ve had in a while.” Mike said, looking at his cereal bowl. Forrester tried to comprehend Mike’s words. He didn’t think this could be the best job he’s had.

“You won’t mess it up. Don’t worry about that.” Dr. Forrester laid his hand on Mike’s shoulder despite his better judgement. There was something about this endearing farm-boy face of Mike’s that made him want to comfort him. Mike leaned into his touch, and looked up at him through his eyelashes. “Compared to Joel, you’ll be fine. He has to do the invention exchange and knowing him he’ll probably manage to mess it up.” Forrester patted Mike’s shoulder awkwardly. “All you have to worry about is trying to survive _The Brain That Wouldn’t Die.”_ He squeezed Mike’s shoulder before standing up.

“Thanks Clayton.” Mike said, face red. “ _The Brain That Wouldn’t_ Die.” He frowned. “Sounds like a real horrific time.” He stuffed his face with cereal, still blushing.

“Oh it will be.” Forrester tried to regain some of his evil credentials with a particular good evil laugh. Mike looked a little freaked out but then he just grinned and ate his cereal, watching Forrester with an amused expression.

Forrester frowned. This ‘Mike the temp’ situation was getting out of hand. Apparently all it took was a hick from Wisconsin to make his knees go weak. A few well timed smiles and he just let some _henchman_ use his first name. Things were going to have to change around here.

........................................................................................................................

Mike was terribly distracted during the entire movie. Which was probably a good thing considering it was an absolutely terrible experience. Dr. Forrester, no, _Clayton_ , had been so sweet that morning. And the feel of his hand on his shoulder stayed with Mike. He was going to have to accept the fact that he had a thing for the mad scientist. There was no sense in fooling himself. But maybe if Clayton had a thing for him . . . well maybe he could use it to his advantage. Mike began to hatch a plan. A plan, he thought, that would be evil enough that even Dr. Forrester would be impressed.

When the movie finally ended he stumbled out of the dark theater, squinting at the bright lights. He ran into someone, still half blind. He screwed up his eyes, feeling hands at his forearms.

“Mike?” It was Clayton. Mike’s stomach flipped. He felt now was a good time for step one of Project SALSA, or **S** educe **A** n evi **L** **S** cientist **A** lready, to commence.

“Sorry, Clayton. My eyes are still adjusting to the light.” Mike mumbled. He blinked rapidly, vision clearing. Clayton’s face was so close to his. Mike bit his lip. He watched as Forrester’s eyes lingered on his mouth. Mike struggled not to grin.

“It’s alright Mike, just wanted to see how you survived.” Clayton was still holding on to him.

“Barely.” Mike swayed slightly in Forrester’s arms. He laughed manically in his head when he felt Forrester step closer to him to keep him upright. “It was dreadful.” Mike pouted.

“Good.” Clayton looked pleased with himself. He gave Mike a once over. “You don’t seem too worse for wear.” He squeezed Mike’s arms before letting him go, taking a step back. “I expected more from you actually, Joel wasn’t nearly as effected as _this_ his first time around.”

Mike felt kind of hurt by that comment. “Hey, he gets breaks.” Mike folded his arms. His faux pout had turned into a real one. “And *I* have to watch the whole thing in one sitting.”

“Oh, you think I don’t know that Mike?” Forrester snapped. Mike was stunned. “And don’t worry, you’re not going to lose your job, boobie.” Forrester leaned close and sneered. “In fact, having a weak mind like yours is going to be great for my numbers in the next audit. You’re gonna be fun to break.”

Mike was aghast and kind of angry at this outburst. (And vaguely turned on.) All he could do was splutter.

“Aw.” Forrester patted his cheek. Mike fisted his hands. “Does Mike-y need the rest of the day off?”

“No.” Mike ground out.

“Good, because you’re not gonna get it. Now go change all the lightbulbs in the lab to those old fluorescent ones from Storage Room X. We’re trying to be somewhat evil here. You know, waste more energy, foster that flickering unnatural ambiance.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Mike said, seething, brushing past Dr. Forrester.

“Good boy.” Forrester called after him. Mike’s step faltered.

Project SALSA was not going as planned.

He rummaged around Storage Room X angrily, kicking boxes he probably shouldn’t be kicking. Dr. Forrester was talking to him, even comforting him, just that morning, letting Mike call him Clayton and everything. He didn’t think it was fair, especially after the hell movie he had to suffer through. Maybe he just needed to try harder. He couldn’t afford to screw up yet another job. Honestly, he was irritated by how hard getting into Forrester’s pants was going to be. He glared at the box of lightbulbs. This is what he got for having a thing for a mad scientist. He picked up a lightbulb and laughed to himself. “A mad scientist.” He said, tapping the lightbulb with his finger. “A lightbulb moment.” He realized that Clayton needed to feel like a mad scientist. Mike was going about this all wrong.

“Project SALSA **2.0** is now a go.”


	4. Robert Conrad

Forrester choked on his coffee when he looked up from his work. Mike was wriggling around half naked again. It reminded him vaguely of Robert Conrad on ‘The Wild Wild West.’ But thankfully Mike wasn’t in those oddly tight pants Robert Conrad always wore. Forrester frowned, wondering what Mike was doing that required so much . . . noise.

Forrester tried not to stare but Mike was bent over a table, ass in the air, reaching for something, and he couldn’t imagine how anyone could not look at a sight such as that. Especially when some truly pornographic grunts were coming from said sight.

“Mike?” He croaked.

“Hmmm?” Mike walked his hands back along the table, back straightening and curving, sweat rolling down his naked back. He didn’t even turn around, just turned his head and looked over his shoulder. Forrester was suddenly very glad there was a tabletop between his lap and Mike’s line of sight.

“Uh, what are you doing?” He asked.

“Just trying to dust. Frank was badgering me about it.” He turned around, leaning his ass against the edge of the table, legs falling apart. Forrester felt lightheaded.

“Frank doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Dust? This is a lab for crying out loud.” Forrester took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. He thought dealing with one shitty henchman was enough, now he had to deal with two wackos.

“Ummm . . . let me . . .” Mike started walking over. Forrester squinted up at him. He felt uneasy about what was going to happen next.

 “What are you doing?” He asked nervously, reaching up to put his glasses back on. But before he could, Mike set his hand on his, and took them away. “Mike. . .” He hissed.

“Don’t worry about it, Clayton.” Mike said, voice close to his ear. Forrester swallowed, he knew this was going to be nothing but trouble. He heard the clatter of his glasses hitting the table followed by Mike’s hands at his shoulders.

“Are you . . ?” Forrester trailed off as Mike began running his hands over him.

“Giving you shoulder rub? Yeah, you seem tense.” Mike purred. Forrester almost rolled his eyes at such an obvious line.

“I’m tense? Is there something you’re trying to say Nelson?”

“Just that a mad scientist needs to . . . take advantage of his henchman once in a while.”

Forrester knit his eyebrows, take advantage of his henchmen? “Mike?”

“Hmmm. . .Yes Clayton?” Mike brushed Forrester’s pony tail over his shoulder so he could dig his thumbs into a knot in his neck. Forrester forgot his question entirely, a moan making its way out of him. “There you go.” Mike hummed. Forrester was sure he had gone to heaven.

“How about you take your lab coat off so I can do this right.” Mike ran his hands down Forrester’s chest, fingers reaching for the buttons. Forrester gasped at the contact. He knew that somewhere things had escalated, but he couldn’t figure out when or why.

“Mike, uh . . . how about you just ummmm . . . that’s enough Mike.” He said, panicking.

Mike whined, running his hands back up Forrester’s chest, palms catching on his nipples through the fabric. Forrester gasped, biting down on his bottom lip. Mike squeezed his shoulders one more time and backed off.

“Fine, I’ll go and . . . finish dusting.” Mike started to walk away before stopping. “If you ever want another shoulder rub. . .” Mike looked over his shoulder. “. . . you know where to find me.” He licked his lips before turning around and leaving the room.

Forrester gripped the edge of the lab table, knuckles going white. He was either going to have to jerk off or kill Frank to get the edge off.

He wanted to take what Mike was offering, there was no doubt about that. But Mike was surely only offering him favors because he felt he had to. And even though Forrester was evil, he wasn’t _that_ kind of evil.

“Take advantage of my henchman.” He muttered. “Good lord.”

He found out over the next week or so that the shoulder rub had only been the beginning. Mike was touching him at every opportunity otherwise he plastering himself up against a nearby surface, sweaty and half naked. It was very distracting. And considering he wasn’t going to give into Mike’s advances due to some sort of weird ethical hang up he wasn’t sure had come from, he was frustrated. It didn’t help that he had actual important work to do, the world couldn’t conquer itself after all.

He found himself on his last nerve rather quickly. And Frank had made himself scarce, no doubt sensing the danger of a frustrated Dr. Forrester. So he didn’t even have him as an outlet. He knew that things were going downhill quickly, but he wasn’t really sure what to do about it. The solution presented itself, it wasn’t elegant, it wasn’t planned, and it wasn’t up to either Mike of Forrester. Nonetheless it happened.

Mike was being particularly bothersome. He kept fiddling with stuff on the lab table Forester was working at. And then he knocked over something, that wasn’t really dangerous per say, but very large and heavy and loud when it collided with the table. “Mike, could you please stop.” Forrester hissed.

“What, stop what?” He asked as he tried to fix the mess he had made.

“Messing with my equipment! Interrupting my experiments! You think you’re helping, but you’re not!” Forrester leaned back from his microscope and glared at Mike.

“Well excuse me for trying to be a good employee.”

“That’s what you call this?” Forrester gestured at Mike.

“Yes. I thought that’s what you wanted?” Mike’s voice had risen in volume.

Forrester stood up, angry at the tone Mike had taken. “What I wanted? You think I want a sniveling teacher’s pet at my beck and call?”

“Uhhh, yes?” Mike spit back, sounding like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What?” Forrester felt a little woozy.

“You’re a mad scientist. Isn’t an eager little helper what mad scientists are supposed to want?” Mike was moving in on him.

“Well . . . yes. . .” Forrester slowly backed away from the lab table, Mike following. He had feeling that they needed to be far away from hazardous substances that Mike might knock over.

“Then I don’t know what the big deal is!” Mike yelled.

Forrester didn’t like that. “The big deal? You’re a bigger dope than I originally thought. How can I get any work done when you’re breathing down my neck all the time?” Forrester stood his ground, face inches from Mike’s

“Aghhhhh! Just what do you want me to do? Either I’m at your beck and call or I’m not.” Mike yelled back.

“I don’t think that’s how that works. Beck and call doesn’t mean wriggling around like some Robert Conrad wannabe!” Forrester leaned into Mike’s space. He was past the point of caring. The frustration had been building for far too long without an outlet.

Mike looked unsettled, face red. He took a step back. “Robert Conrad wannabe?” Mike hissed. “I can’t believe you said that!”

“Can’t take the heat? Then you aren’t really a henchman are you?” Forrester put his hands on Mike’s arms and pushed him back against the wall. Mike clenched his jaw. “What? Cat got your tongue, Mike?”

 “You’re so fucking stubborn!” Mike struggled weakly under Forrester’s hands.

Forrester kept him against the wall. “Where do you think you’re going? I’m not done with you, Mike.” He tried to ignore the burgeoning erection he was getting.

Mike growled and tried to pry him off. Forrester fought back. Mike hooked a leg around Forrester’s knee and he fell to the ground bringing Mike with him. They rolled around on floor, wrestling for control. “You little shit.” Forrester growled, getting on top of Mike, holding him down with an arm at Mike’s chest. “The one time I decide not to be evil, you go and fuck it up.”

Mike pushed him off, “Decide not to be evil?” He rolled them over and straddled Forrester’s hips, pinning Forrester’s arms to the ground. They were both breathing heavily.

“What does that even mean?” Mike leaned back, hands coming up from Forrester’s wrists. Mike reared back like he was about to punch him as he growled, “I’m not some damsel in. . .” He trailed off just as his ass slid against Forrester’s hard-on.

“Oh fuck!” Mike choked, back arching and arm dropping. His hands went to Forrester’s hips. Mike’s hips jerked, causing his ass to slide against Forrester’s erection. Forrester’s vision blanked out for a second, thrusting against Mike’s ass. Mike hissed, rubbing himself against Forrester.

“Mike?” Forrester choked, hands coming up Mike’s shoulders. He tried to push Mike off, thinking that Mike didn’t really want this.

“Ah Clayton.” Mike’s eyes had slid closed. “More.” Mike shifted and Forrester erection pressed against his ass crack.

“Mike you don’t have to do this. . .” Forrester gasped.

“I know. But I want to.” Mike rolled his hips with a rhythm that was making Forrester’s eyes roll back.

“You want to?” He croaked. He couldn't really believe it, despite the erection Mike was sporting.

Mike leaned down, hands moving to either side of Forrester’s head. “Yeah I really do.” Mike said, closing the distance and kissing Forrester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robert Conrad really does wriggle around half naked in The Wild Wild West, like every single episode. Check it out, he plays this cowboy spy who has a really cute partner and they are totally gay for each other. It's kind of my life.
> 
> Anywho, I might add that sex scene later. . . but I need this to be posted so I can function like a human for finals week.
> 
> All in all this was kind of a rush job in between all the shit my brain has been screaming at me to do this past week or so. However it was fun to write and I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
